


Emily and his quest for Foie Gras

by theboywiththeskulltattoo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Epilogue What Epilogue, M/M, Parsel, Post DH, the most spoiled snake on the planet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 19:06:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15669408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theboywiththeskulltattoo/pseuds/theboywiththeskulltattoo
Summary: headcanon from @quicksilvermaid on tumblr (shortened bc her prompt was a minific on its own):Draco is an animagus snake and Harry finds him. Shenanigans ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Quicksilvermaid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quicksilvermaid/gifts).



> My first attempt at HP, at Drarry - be kind please XD

As he walked out of his bed and breakfast, Harry was sure the day was going to be, utterly, mind-numbingly boring. Just like the last day. And the three days before. _Holidays_ , he thought with a sigh. A habit back from his school days. Holidays were nothing desirable.

And being all alone in a stuffy B&B near Bath didn’t make the concept any better, really. Wistfully he pictured his best friends on some beach in France, Ron smothered in sunscreen under a huge sunshade, Hermione with her nose in the inevitable book… Or maybe they were doing something honeymooney, or…

Harry snorted as he made his way down a farm lane, wandering towards the nice hill fort he’d discovered the other day. He simply couldn’t picture his friends in any romantic situation. After all, romance for Ron meant something like, not speaking with his mouth full during dinner.

Harry grinned, then made the mistake of thinking of his ex girlfriend for a second, which made the grin disappear faster than lightning. It still hurt, even after nearly 2 years since they’d parted ways. It wasn’t hard to imagine what Ginny would be doing now: holding some flaming inspirational speech for her Quidditch team.

_Ouch, you fucking prick, can’t you look where you walk?_

Startled out of his thoughts Harry looked around, then, after seeing no one around, down on the ground before his feet. A small, emerald green snake lay there, gazing up at him reproachfully. And rightfully so, since Harry had nearly stepped onto its tail.

 _Sorry, didn’t see you there,_ he replied in Parseltongue.

_Yeah, I figured that much, you trampling idiot._

The snake shivered a little, and Harry crouched down to get a better look. It was a beautiful specimen, its skin iridescent and of nearly the same green as Harry’s eyes. But something was wrong. There were wounds on both sides of the snake’s long, smooth body, looking like…

 _Bite marks?_ Harry asked, worried when the snake didn’t reply immediately. Finally it sighed.

 _Bloody dogs got me. I should see that I get home now._ It tried to slither away, but winced at the first tiny movement. _Ouch. Fuck._

Harry pondered his options for a second. He couldn’t just leave the poor thing lying around here, it would be dead before nightfall. And, while he nursed it back to health, at least he had someone to talk to. _Pathetic_ , a voice in his head whispered. Harry shrugged, and carefully scooped the snake up with both hands.

_I’m going to help you, alright?_

The snake didn’t answer. It had fainted.

***

He made his way back to the village, the unconscious snake carefully tucked away in his jacket. Harry was sure he’d seen a pharmacy somewhere around, and sighed in relief when he finally found it. A bell dinged overhead when he entered, and a young girl looked up from the magazine she’d been reading.

“Hello,” Harry said, “I need-”

He stopped when he saw the girl’s eyes go wide, then flicker to his forehead. Trying his hardest to fight the impulse to smack a handful of hair over his scar, Harry smiled, giving in to the inevitable.

“Harry Potter,” the girl breathed. “Wow. Just wow.” She seemed to realise she’d been staring; with effort she pulled herself together. “What can I do for you, Sir?”

 _Sir…_ Harry shuddered. “I found a snake that’s been attacked by dogs. Can you give me something for its wounds?” He proceeded to pull the snake out of his pocket, surprised when the girl’s face immediately took on the colour of a ripe pomegranate.

“Sure. Harry _Potter._ ” She sounded like she had trouble speaking. “I’ll give you something for your… _snake._ ”

With that she disappeared in the back, and to Harry’s confusion broke out in loud laughter the moment she was out of sight. What the..? After nearly five minutes she returned with a small tube, still giggling.

“Apply this to the wounds. And, Mr. Potter…” she continued after Harry had paid and was just going to leave, “have fun with your… _snake._ ”

Her giggles followed Harry out onto the cobbled street and he scratched the back of his head. Peculiar.

***

The snake still hadn’t moved when Harry was back in his room, after carefully avoiding the chatty old wizard who owned the B&B. He laid it out on one of his t-shirts he’d spread over the table. Gently, Harry started to clean the snake’s wounds with fresh water, but only when he started applying the ointment, the snake came to life.

 _That burns!!_ it hissed, looking very much like it would like to bite.

 _Yeah, I know, but it’s going to help you get well again,_ Harry explained patiently. _My name is Harry Potter, by the way._

 _May I be impressed later?_ the snake retorted, looking as disdainful as a reptilian creature could. _I’m rather busy being IN PAIN right now._

Harry couldn’t believe it. Even snakes seemed to know who he was. But then, how many parseltongues were there in the world? Harry knew none, at least none alive. Maybe word had gotten around in the snake community and-

 _What’re you staring at?!_ the snake demanded grumpily.

Harry shook his head. _You seem to feel a lot better, but to be sure I’m going to take you to London._

_LONDON?? What the fuck should I do in Lon- ah… ah… What’s a London?_

Harry arched an eyebrow at the snake. _You’ll see._

_***_

_Tsk,_ said the snake, its head poking out of Harry’s breast pocket. _And I always thought Mal- uh - the mousehole we live in is a dusty old shit place. But it’s a palace compared to THIS._

It was right, Harry thought. Kreacher was way too old to be able to keep Grimmauld Place in shape, and when Ron had suggested to get another house elf as help, Hermione had all but ripped his throat out. _Wages,_ Ron had stuttered, backing away, _holidays!_

Not an option, unfortunately. Most house elves Harry knew were still shockingly opposed to the idea of getting paid for their work. So, Grimmauld Place was nearly as dusty as the first time Harry had seen it.

 _I gather at least the kitchen will be tidy enough,_ the snake said disdainfully, _and I’m quite hungry now._ It turned his head to glare at Harry, only inches from his eyes. _What are you waiting for, Potter? Feed me!_

A good sign, Harry thought as he walked into the kitchen, looking around for Kreacher. The snake hadn’t wanted to eat anything since it had woken up after its treatment, had only had some water a few times. Kreacher is nowhere to be seen, and Harry doesn’t want to disturb him in case he’s sleeping - he’s really old - so it looked like he would have to go out shopping.

 _Any particular wishes?_ Harry asked. He could find a mouse somewhere for sure, or maybe some snails from the park nearby. The snake seemed to be deep in thought. _Foie Gras,_ it finally hissed, and Harry nearly tripped over his own feet at that.

 _Foie Gras???_ he asked to be sure.

 _Yes, Foie Gras, have you gone deaf, Potter?_ The snake rolled its eyes. _I’m sure you’ll find a nice little delicatessen that carries it. Now off you go, Potter, I’m starving._

Harry set the snake down onto the kitchen table, eyeing it with suspicion. _You know, I have the strange feeling I know you somehow. You… kind of remind me of someone._

 _Highly improbable,_ the snake remarked dryly, _I’m quite singular. ARE YOU STILL HERE???_

 _Alright, alright, I’m off. If you should meet Kreacher - he’s my house elf, please don’t bite him._ Harry turned to disapparate, the last thing he heard being,

 _You bite_ me, _Potter._

Harry came back an hour later, only to find the snake wasn’t lying on the kitchen table anymore. _Snake?_ he hissed out as loud as he could, then paused to listen intently. And faintly he could make out a familiar mumble from upstairs. Harry followed it to his - Sirius’ - room.

“Kreacher is very happy to be serving the young lord, very happy, Master Harry is good, is kind, but the young lord is of the true blood, Kreacher is so happy…”

Shaking his head, Harry opened the door, to find the snake enthroned on his pillow, with Kreacher feeding it little bits of something Harry couldn’t see. The snake seemed to be enjoying these attentions well enough, the tip of its tail whipping around merrily.

At Harry’s entering the room Kreacher looked up, setting his bowl aside to bow at Harry, all the while mumbling quietly.

“Welcome home, master, welcome, Kreacher is happy to have the master back home, so happy, the young lord will be staying with us now, Kreacher will make supper now, master, very good supper.”

With that he cast a last, adoring glance back at the snake, bowed again and vanished with a loud crack. Harry looked at the snake, feeling exceedingly puzzled. _Why’s he calling you lord?_ he asked.

 _Maybe your clever servant has instinctively caught on to my noble aura,_ the snake replied breezily, then indicated the bag in Harry’s hand. _Is that my Foie Gras? I fear I’m quite full at the moment, but I’ll have it tomorrow._

 _You’re kidding, right?_ Harry hissed, exasperated. _I had to comb the whole Fortnum and Mason until I found it!_

 _Fort what and what?_ the snake asked in a bored tone. _Nevermind, I’m taking a nap. Shoo!_

Baffled, Harry turned to leave, turning around at the door again, feeling slightly curious. _Hey. Do you have a name? I can’t keep calling you ‘Snake’ in my head._

The snake opened one disinterested eye and made a snorting sound. _It’s ‘None of your business, Potter’._

And suddenly Harry’d had it with that animal’s attitude. Two could play at that game. _That’s quite a mouthful really, I hope you don’t mind if I’m shortening it a bit._ He pretended to be thinking. _How about Emily? I think I’ll call you Emily._

That had the snake reeling up like a garden hose gone mad. _I’M A DUDE!!_ it shrieked, and if snakes could go red Harry was sure this one would’ve been bright red now.

 _Sleep well, Emily_ , Harry called cheerfully before closing the door in the middle of a hysterical snake-freakout.

***

 _They’re coming over today,_ Harry told Emily. He was curled up into a tight ball on top of Harry’s chest, still pretending to be asleep. But by now Harry knew him well enough to see through the charade. _I trust you’ll be nice to them at least, yes? Since you can’t be troubled to be nice to me._

Emily made a not very convincing snoring sound and Harry chuckled. Somehow he’d gotten used to the snarky little fellow, his lordly behaviour, his demanding attitude and, well. This sleeping arrangement. It had started on their second night at Grimmauld Place, a particularly cold night what with it being summer, even for England.

Harry had been wrapped up in his thick blanket, just drifting into sleep when he’d heard a soft, gliding sound. A second later he’d nearly jumped out of his skin when something icy cold slithered over his wrist, up his arm, across his shoulder, to settle on his chest. Harry had blinked, looking straight into Emily’s much too expressive eyes, for a snake.

_Erm… what do you think you’re doing here?_

_Shut up, Potter,_ Emily had hissed, _it’s freakishly cold and I’m about to fall into hibernation, and you are warm, and I’m staying here._

And that had been that. If he was completely honest with himself, it wasn’t that bad, the warm weight on his chest, Emily softly breathing in and out and lulling Harry into sleep with the regularity of his snores.

_I have to get up now, or my friends will find me dozing the day away. I bet Hermione would have a lot to say about laziness._

This made Emily give up on the pretence of sleep, he uncurled and gazed at Harry with a slightly pained expression. _You may take me down with you,_ he said graciously, pretending for it to be a bloody hardship. _I’m hungry and I wager my friend Kreacher has something very special for me._

Harry could only shake his head in astonishment. He’d never known snakes could be such fussy creatures, and this one must have been the fussiest of them all. He ate nothing but the most expensive, fancy foods, and as of late he’d started demanding Evian instead of regular tap water.

And Kreacher was all too happy to oblige Emily’s every whim. He continued to call him young lord, insisting that he was of the most noble blood. Poor Kreacher, Harry thought, projecting his genealogic desires Harry couldn’t fulfil onto a pet snake. Well, either that or Kreacher was well versed in snake nobility.

Down in the kitchen, Harry didn’t even have time to look for food before an almighty bang nearly gave him a heart attack, and before he knew he was enveloped in a rib-crushing embrace by his best friend.

“Harry, you old bugger! Have you missed us?”

Harry pulled back to look at Ron, impossibly more freckled than ever, a broad grin on his face. He didn’t have time to study him long, as now Kreacher was leading Hermione into the kitchen.

“Mrs. Weasley for the master,” he mumbled, giving her a sour glance.

“Why do you come via the door?” Ron asked and his wife rolled her eyes.

“Manners, Ron. You’re not supposed to apparate into someone’s kitchen. Oh Harry,” she exclaimed and pulled him into her arms. “You look well! Have the holidays been restful?”

 _I’d quite appreciate if your so-called friends would stop crushing me to death,_ came the sour voice out of Harry’s collar, and Hermione reeled back.

“Something’s hissing under your shirt, Harry,” she squeaked, looking on curiously as Emily poked his tongue out at her. “Harry, you got yourself a pet snake?”

 _Pet snake?_ Emily hissed, enraged. _Tell that bushy-haired mu- I mean, this obnoxious know-it-all, that I am sure as hell not someone’s pet!_

Fortunately Hermione hadn’t understood a single thing, and Harry sighed. “Found him wounded and nursed him back to health, and then he stayed and I kind of got used to him? I call him Emily.”

Emily rolled his eyes, a strange thing in a snake, and suddenly Hermione’s forehead creased in concentration, she crossed her arms before her chest and started chewing on her lip. It looked like she was just about to solve some very hard logical.

“Harry.” Her voice sounded strained now, as if she was trying not to laugh. “That’s… oh dear.”

And then something strange happened. Emily hovered closely before Hermione’s face, they stared at each other for a long time - and then Hermione winked. At the snake.

“A very fine snake you have there, Harry.”

“A snake?” Ron’s voice came from behind. “Hey, lemme get a look!”

_I swear if that idiot touches me, I’m going to bite!!!_

Before Harry had time to warn him, Ron had already picked Emily out of Harry’s shirt, and started screaming as Emily’s fangs were boring into his arm.

 _EMILY!!!_ Harry shouted, scandalised, trying to pry him off of Ron. _What’s gotten into you? Are you venomous?_

 _Should that moronic weasel ever come near me again my fa-a-a… No I’m not,_ Emily snarled, not looking at Harry.

Harry squinted. He had such a strong sense of deja-vu… but couldn’t put his finger on it. He looked over at where Hermione was just dribbling essence of dittany on Ron’s arm while mumbling to herself.

“Hasn’t changed at all… same old nasty bugger…”

Ron looked on sheepishly. “Sorry, guys. Sorry, snake. Shouldn’t touch people’s pets without permission.”

“Know what?” Harry mumbled, relieved that neither of them seemed to be mad with him or Emily, “why don’t we go to the Leaky Cauldron and I’ll treat you to a nice drink?”

***

“Just my luck,” Ron groaned as they were coming out of Fortescue’s Ice Parlour. “I’m in London for one bloody time in a fucking year and have to see _that_?”

 _That_ referred to Lucius Malfoy and his wife Narcissa, making their way through Diagon Alley. And as much as Harry tried to make himself look as unassuming as possible, Mrs. Malfoy caught his eye and nodded in greeting. And stopped.

“Harry Potter,” she said cooly, her face showing something that nearly could be called a smile. “how… nice… to meet you again.”

Obediently, Harry sighed and went over, trying to ignore Lucius’ grimace. “Hi, Mrs. Malfoy, Mr. Malfoy. How do you do?”

“Well enough, thanks to you,” she said, discreetly elbowing her husband when he didn’t say anything. He shot her a vitriolic look before mumbling, “Fine, fine.”

Harry just thought that the polite smalltalk had been enough now, when Emily chose this exact moment to slither out of his collar. _Where’s that ice cream, Potter? I want another lick!_

The three of them looked down on him for a moment, Harry glad at the distraction, Narcissa exceedingly puzzled -

“MERLIN’S HAIRY BUTTOCKS!!!”

“Lucius!!” Narcissa hissed, obviously scandalized at her husband’s uncharacteristic outburst.

Harry could just stare at him open-mouthed. Cool, collected Lucius Malfoy was beet-red, his eyes bulging, his mouth hanging open as he stared at Emily, who’d apparently frozen in shock.

“Er… how’s Draco?” he asked in a desperate attempt to dissolve the sudden tension. It didn’t.

“How’s -- Draco -- Mr. Potter, I won’t have you mock me to my face!!!!”

Harry stared at Lucius’ furious face. What in the...

“We… have… to… go!” Narcissa said, tugging hard at her husband’s waistcoat. “Goodbye, Harry. Goodbye, Dra- Goodbye!”

Harry looked after them, flabbergasted, as Narcissa Malfoy nearly pulled her husband off his feet in her apparent rush to leave, whispering at him furiously all the while. A slight shiver at his neck made Harry look down to where Emily was now quivering like a rattlesnake.

 _Emily, are you alright?_ he asked, worry seeping into his puzzlement. Emily didn’t respond, but when he rejoined Ron and Hermione he thought he could hear the snake talking lowly to himself. _Bloody wonderful… disowned… Good grief…_

Hermione was hopping up and down on her feet, looking as if she may burst with something. Ron had apparently gotten himself another ice cream cone, gesticulating with it at Harry.

“Did old Malfoy really say what I thought I heard? Wouldn’t have thought he knows such naughty words.”

 _Old… Malfoy??_ Emily’s head shot up and Harry just caught him in time before he could lash out at Ron again. _EMILY!_ he hiss-shouted, _behave!_ Harry turned to his friends.

“Listen, guys, I think I should take Emily home. He’s not a very social snake I fear.” He grinned. “I definitely will not bring him to your mum’s on Sunday, Ron.”

“You’re ditching us for a snake?” Ron sounded utterly miffed, then his eyes bulged and he jumped. “OW! ‘Mione, what--?”

“See you on Sunday then, Harry,” Hermione smiled, wisely refraining from hugging Harry again after a look at a furious Emily. “Ron, let’s go.”

After a last wave they disapparated, leaving Harry and Emily alone in Diagon Alley. _No Foie Gras tonight,_ Harry said strictly. Emily rolled his eyes.

***

That night it took Harry a long time to fall asleep. Emily was sulking over in her bed, having refused Harry’s choice of dinner - fish and chips. Harry had forbidden Kreacher to make him anything else, and Emily had slithered off, hissing grumpily to himself.

And then, alone in bed, Harry couldn’t sleep. Flickers of snakes, Malfoys and other unclear images flitted through his mind. Only when he heard a hissed sigh and felt the familiar weight settle on his chest, Harry drifted off.

He woke in the middle of the night out of a nightmarish dream where a huge python had tried to squish him to mush. Curiously, the heavy weight didn’t go away when Harry blinked himself awake. Something was tickling his chin and he looked down.

In Emily’s place was now a person. A sleeping person. A person looking - and smelling, Harry noticed slightly embarrassed - like his nemesis. His nightmare. His secret shame. Draco bloody Malfoy.

Okay, he was definitely still dreaming. It must’ve been seeing Draco’s parents today what planted this dream in his head, obviously. Because in no universe a half-naked Draco Malfoy would be wrapped tightly around Harry Potter, in no world would silky blonde hair tickle Harry’s skin with every breath.

“Er… Emily?” Harry asked, voice shaking.

The vision on his chest stirred slightly, a pair of grey eyes blinked at him and a drowsy voice mumbled, “Shut up, Potter. Trying to sleep here.” And with that he was off again. Harry nudged his (naked!!) shoulder.

“Hmmmmm!”

With a noise of displeasure Dream-Draco slapped Harry’s hand away - and snuggled closer. “Warm,” he muttered, “sleep.”

Harry unsuccessfully tried to calm his beating heart. This was torture, the clean scent of him, the warm feeling of his skin… He had to wake up. Harry closed his eyes, waiting for the dream to dissolve. His heartbeat calmed, his arms wrapped around the sleeping man and, without meaning to, he dozed off.

***

Harry woke to bright daylight streaming in, alone in his bed. He rubbed his eyes, then fumbled for his glasses on the bedside table. What a strange - horribly alluring - dream. He looked around, but Emily was nowhere to be seen. Probably down in the kitchen, getting fed selected bits of Argentinian steak by Kreacher to make up for the missed dinner.

Upon entering his kitchen, Harry nearly suffered a heart attack. There, at the table, sat Draco Malfoy, giving him a shrewd glance. In front of him was a plate with some baked stuff in it. Harry said the first thing that came to his mind.

“What are you eating?”

“And a good morning to you too, Potter.” Draco sighed. “Pain au chocolat, obviously.”

Harry glanced down at Kreacher, seemingly determined to break his back with bowing constantly. “I never get anything else than toast.”

One corner of Draco’s mouth curled slightly, then he sighed again. “I would guess you have a couple of questions, Potter.” He waved his hand elegantly. “Shoot.”

A couple? That wouldn’t even cover half of it. Harry’s throat was dry as he desperately tried not to stare at Draco’s naked chest. He couldn’t think.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why are you a snake? Are those green snake-patterned pyjama bottoms? Did your parents recognize you? Why didn’t you tell me? What’s the purpose of that? What on earth had you been doing there when I found you? How could you - MALFOY, YOU SLEPT IN MY BED!!!!”

“Yes, so what. Can’t two guys sleep in the same bed when one of them is bloody freezing?”

Draco’s voice sounded defiant, but Harry wasn’t able to focus on it at all as another realisation dawned on him.

“You’ve. Seen. Me. Naked.”

A slight pink tinge appeared on Draco’s pale face, he shrugged. “It’s not as if you’re hard to look at, Potter.”

Harry gaped at him, open-mouthed. “YOU LOOKED???”

“Wouldn’t you when you finally get the chance? Finally look your fill? After years of… of…” Draco leaned back, throwing his hands up in frustration. “I’m so sick of this.”

“Sick of what,” Harry inquired, mouth dry. “Sick of _what,_ Draco?”

A quick glance from grey eyes had his knees go weak. “Pretending I’m not into you.”

Into him. Into him? Into him. Harry swallowed. Fuck it, he thought. Time for a clearance. He drew his wand. Draco jumped to his feet, paling even more.

“Potter, what - I didn’t attack, you bloody oaf, I just told you I like you, can you please stop pointing that thing at me? Good grief, Potter, for the love of Merlin--”

Harry grinned and threw his wand aside. “Can you shut up? At least while I kiss you?”

After a second of pretending to ponder this, Draco shook his head. “No.”

“Thought so,” Harry said, and moved closer, “Emily.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So long since I started that as a gag for @Quicksilvermaid O.O
> 
> Part 2, at the Burrow
> 
> Fight me, I'm bloody sure the Weasleys would put up with Draco for Harry :)

“You sure you want to do that?” Potter asked, looking back at Draco who was still frozen to the spot they’d Apparated to. “You look like you’ll faint any second now.”

“Please, Potter,” Draco sneered. “The day I’m afraid of a pack of weasels is the day I’ll voluntarily give you my wand again and have you commit me to the Janus-Thickey-Ward.” He squared his shoulders and, chin held high, stomped past him, straight to the Burrow’s kitchen door. 

When Draco nearly tripped over a stray chicken, catching himself at the last moment, the bastard chuckled behind him. Draco didn’t wait, but he could hear Potter trot after him, overtaking Draco, and after a brief knock he entered directly into the Weasley kitchen. The greetings and Harrys and good-to-see-yous were cut short by Draco appearing in the doorway behind him - the sudden silence was nearly deafening. 

Draco did a quick head count. Seven people. Weren’t there more of them? Mother Weasel, Father Weasel, something-at-the-Ministry-Weasel, Fun Weasel, Johnson, Draco’s-fault-he’s-ugly-now-Weasel, and that blonde french bint that had kissed Harry after the Triwizard Tournament. 

Weasel-Weasel, Granger, the Weaselette and the wearing-leather-pants-too-hot-for-a-Weasley-Weasel were missing. And of course, the other Fun Weasel. 

Draco could see Potter eyeing Mother Weasel as she stared, open-mouthed, at Draco. Her hand didn’t twitch for her wand, which he considered a good sign, but she didn’t exactly look thrilled at the sight of him. Well, it wasn’t as if he could blame her. Draco shuffled to Harry’s side, feeling slightly nauseous. Here goes nothing, he thought. He swallowed, reaching into his pocket - and had seven wands pointed at him immediately. 

With a slightly panicked look at Potter, Draco withdrew his hand - holding a rapidly-growing flower bouquet which he held out to Mother Weasel. 

“Thank you for killing Aunt Bella, Mrs. Weasley,” he said, as solemnly as he could. 

She stared at him for such a long time Draco began to think she was in shock - then suddenly she smiled, wide and friendly and irritating as hell. 

“Thank you, Draco. Is it alright to call you Draco? Have a seat, we’re just waiting for the rest.”

***

An hour later Draco still couldn’t believe how smooth this had gone. Harry had told them some embarrassing thing about Draco being his  _ boyfriend _ (Draco’s blush still hadn’t subsided completely), and everyone seemed to be totally fine with that. One time Draco’s-fault-he’s-now-ugly-Weasel had growled, but that hadn’t been directed at Draco himself but at his taking a particularly rare piece of meat.

Weasel-Weasel and Granger had come through the floo ten minutes after his and Potter’s arrival, Granger shooting Weasel-Weasel a smug look when she saw him. Weasel-Weasel had swallowed, looked at Potter’s shoulder where it was touching Draco’s, then dug into his pockets before handing a shiny Galleon over to Granger. Strange people.

The Weaselette had been last, after Draco had learned that the last one was back in Romania, taming dragons and probably looking hot as fuck while doing so. Weaselette had reacted remarkably well to Draco’s presence. 

“Draco,” she’d said, “I see you’re out of several closets?”

Ignoring Potter’s funny look Draco had tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Ginevra. As you see. I gather you’ve been well?”

She’d winked, and that had been that. Mother Weasel had beckoned them all to a large table and then started serving up one dish after the other - astonishingly delicious. And while Potter still looked like a Neandertal the way he was wolfing down his food (Weasel-Weasel was actually  _ worse _ ), it was all quite homely and nice. 

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Mother Weasel said for approximately the hundredth time. “I know it’s nothing fancy, just plain old home cooking.”

And Draco, for approximately the hundredth time, smiled at her and answered, “It’s delicious, Mrs. Weasley, thank you. Actually, I think fancy food is overrated,” he added, which sent Potter into a coughing fit next to him. Draco was sure he’d heard ‘Foie Gras’ in between the spluttering. 

Draco rolled his eyes. Of course that stuff was amazing, but he’d mostly requested it to keep Potter on his toes. Not that he’d ever admit it, but having his every whim catered to by the Saviour of the Wizard World was quite something. 

After lunch the party spread out, some went upstairs, Father Weasel mumbled something about a shed, and Mother Weasel shooed Draco, Potter and the rest of the Golden Trio outside. 

For some strange reason Potter and Weasel immediately threw themselves into what seemed like an ongoing garden-gnome-throw-battle. Granger sat down on a bench and waved Draco over to sit next to her. 

“So,” she said, “a snake, right? I’m sorry, but I’m actually surprised you managed to turn into an Animagus. It’s supposed to be awfully hard.”

“It was,” Draco replied, careful to sit on the very edge of the bench. “But I did have a lot of time on my hands during… when he… at the manor.” Well, that was an unsuccessful sentence for sure. 

“Are you registered?” Granger asked, her voice unassuming. 

“I am, actually.” Draco smiled. As if she hadn’t looked it up the second she had her lightbulb moment when she first saw him in snake form. “Thanks for not ratting me out to Potter, by the way. That was very decent of you.”

Granger snorted very unladylike. “And rob Harry of the opportunity to find out for himself? How did it happen?” She looked at him curiously. 

“Transformed in my sleep,” Draco mumbled. “And… I may have been sleeping on Potter’s chest, so…”

“Okay, okay, you keep the rest to yourself,” Granger said hastily. “But… er… given the circumstances, shouldn’t you start calling him Harry some time?”

“He’s not calling me Draco either,” Draco muttered defiantly. “Only Malfoy or Emily.”

That wasn’t exactly true. Potter had called him Draco before kissing him for the first time, and every time they’d kissed since. And sometimes, when he wasn’t paying attention, Draco did call him Harry in his head. But saying it out loud? 

Draco’s fingers wandered to his lips. Kissing Potter was amazing. They hadn’t done anything else yet - Draco wasn’t sure if Potter had ever been with another guy before and he absolutely didn’t want to rush things. 

And Potter made that resolve as hard as possible. Right now he was jogging over, sucking on his finger in a way that made Draco’s blood rush south embarrassingly fast. “Got bitten by a gnome,” Potter beamed, as if a gnome bite were something to be particularly happy about. Then he resumed sucking on his finger and Draco looked aside quickly. 

Unfortunately his gaze landed on the Weaselette who’d decided to join them outside. She was looking at Potter, and out of reflex Draco took his hand and entwined their fingers. Weaselette rolled her eyes, while Potter looked positively delighted. 

It wasn’t that Draco didn’t like her. They had actually become sort of friends when Draco had come back to repeat his seventh year at Hogwarts. They’d had nearly all their classes together, and after discovering that her feelings for Potter where more sisterly than romantic after all, Draco had actually taken a liking to that fierce She-Weasel. 

Or rather, he liked her a lot better when she wasn’t around Potter, because no matter what they are now they  _ had _ kissed, and  _ had  _ done things Draco hadn’t dared to introduce yet - and if Potter could’ve just stopped sucking his bloody finger, things would’ve been pretty fine. 

And of course Fun Weasel would come out exactly when Draco was trying to will down a giant boner and propose a Quidditch match. And of fucking course Potter would beam and be all for it and make it impossible for Draco to refuse. 

The next hour he spent decidedly uncomfortable on a borrowed, very lame Shooting Star. Potter, all chivalrous, had offered him his Firebolt, but Draco had sneered and told him he’d beat him even with a muggle broom, and could he please shut up and fly away? 

Which had been quite counter-productive, for Potter on a broom was definitely much too nice a sight for Draco’s trouser problems to subside. His team lost outrageously, something Draco was sure he would hear the Weasel gloat off these sixty years at least. 

After the match it was time for tea, accompanied by some delicious homemade scones which made Draco wish he could just stuff a dozen in his bags for later. When they had all finished, Ugly-now-Weasel and Frenchie asked Draco to come with them to the living room. Was he to be clobbered now? Uneasily, with a hopefully not too frightened gaze at Potter, Draco followed them. 

“I won’t pretend I like you too much,” the Weasel said, while Blondie nodded gravely. “But it’s Harry’s choice and we are going to accept whatever he wants.” He sighed. “And mum likes you, so welcome to the family, I guess.”

Now Blondie took over. 

“If you ever ‘urt as much as a seengle ‘air on ‘arry’s ‘ead, we weel see that you spent se rest of your life at St. Mungo’s.”

Both glowered at him until Draco nodded. 

“I, Draco Lucius Malfoy, solemnly swear I will never intentionally hurt Harry James Potter ever. Again.”

Ugly-now-Weasel studied Draco’s face, then held out his hand. “I’ll take your word for it.”

The rest of the afternoon was a repetition of exactly this talk, slightly varying depending on which Weasel Draco talked to. Fun-Weasel’s promised punishments were the most creative by far, but it was Mother Weasel who Draco took the most serious. That woman was to be reckoned with. 

When Draco finally found himself next to Potter again it was time to go, back to Grimmauld Place and that batty house-elf who was so smitten with Draco it was ridiculous. And a little gratifying. Potter’s arms were loaded with a huge box, which he shoved at Draco to have his arms free for the inevitable round of hugs. 

Draco watched all this with the patience of a saint, congratulating himself on having survived Weaselmania, when suddenly Mother Weasel embraced him as well, box and all. Flustered, Draco again thanked her for all her kindness and then they were finally,  _ finally  _ out and Apparated away.

Directly into Potter’s bedroom where the box was plucked from Draco’s stiff fingers and cast aside, followed by Potter’s glasses, Potter’s jacket, Potter’s - oh bloody Merlin and Morgana both. 

“You’ve been amazing, Draco,” Harry whispered, green eyes sparkling in the dim light from the hallway. “Perhaps deserving a reward.” And went down on his knees. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next: Malfoy Manor and more Emily again!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay it's been a REALLY long time. In case anyone's still interested, here is the final chapter.

“Fair is fair, Potter,” Draco proclaimed, marching up and down in front of Harry’s bed. “I braved a throng of Weasels for you, now you  _ will _ have lunch with my parents.”

At least it was lunch, Harry thought miserably. A lunch was definitely better than a formal dinner invitation where he - the horror! - would’ve had to wear a dress robe or something equally ghastly. Still, he was absolutely dreading this meeting. 

While he didn’t have any problems with Narcissa per se - she had lied to Voldemort for him (for Draco) after all - Lucius Malfoy was a whole other level of fuckthisIwanttostayinbed. Especially when Draco was in said bed. 

The things they were doing… Nothing he’d done with Ginny could compare to the stuff Draco had shown him, done to him. If it was entirely up to Harry they’d never leave the bed at all anymore. Sadly Draco didn’t seem to be of the same opinion, in fact he was rather insistent on that whole meeting-the-parents scheme.

“It’ll go down the drain,” Harry tried again without much hope. “Have you forgotten what your father said when he saw you with me in Diagon?”

“I most certainly have not,” Draco mumbled crossly. “And I doubt anyone who heard it will forget it ever again.”

“And you really think this time it’s going to go better?” Harry asked, sliding his arms into the sleeves of an altogether too stiff shirt. “He’ll kill me, disown you and then maybe kill me again.”

“Scared, Potter?” Draco mumbled, edging closer. His fingers toyed with the hem of Harry’s shirt. “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the big, bad Lucius Malfoy.”

Harry’s heart thumped in his chest as Draco’s fingers grazed his naked skin, but to his disappointment it turned out he was merely buttoning him up. Which really shouldn’t have been as erotic as it was. 

“Remember what you said when we came back from Weaseltown?” Draco purred, leaning in close to nibble at Harry’s ear. “About me deserving a reward?”

Harry shuddered, thinking back. It had been the first blowjob he’d ever given, probably clumsy as fuck, but Draco had seemed to like it all the same. 

“Let’s just say, if you’re a good little Gryffindor and brave my parents…” Draco interrupted himself to place a wet, sucking kiss on Harry’s neck, “your rewards shall be plentiful.”

Oh. Harry closed his eyes, trying to get his breath under control. “You mean…”

“Yes, Potter. That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Let’s do this,” Harry said.

***

“...SHAME ON OUR FAMILY, ON OUR FAMILY NAME!”

Harry rolled his eyes at that, then glanced at Narcissa who was obviously trying to suppress an eyeroll as well. 

“A lovely day to eat outside, isn’t it?” she asked. “Some more tea, Harry?”

“PARADING AROUND WITH POTTER IN THE VILLAGE!!! EVERYONE COULD SEE!”

“Yes, really nice,” Harry said, accepting his mug from a small House-elf. “Thank you.” 

“THE STUPID GIRL FROM THE PHARMACY TOLD EVERYONE OF YOUR DISGRACE!!!”

“I really like this winter garden,” Harry said, trying to keep a straight face. “Have you designed it yourself?”

“Oh yes,” Narcissa replied, gracefully sipping her tea. “It gave me something to do in my year of house arrest.”

“...STAY LIKE THIS FOR THE REST OF THE DAY SINCE YOU SEEM SO AVID ABOUT RIDICULING YOURSELF OR I’LL DISOWN YOU!”

“Draco tells me you two are getting along well?” Narcissa asked after an uncomfortable pause. 

“Yes, erm… I actually like him a lot as it turns out.” Harry’s face heated up as Narcissa smiled knowingly. 

“That is a relief. I wish my only son to be happy. He’s been talking of you for so long…”

“Lunch is ready, mistress,” a tiny voice peeped from below, and Narcissa got up. 

“Thank you, Wobble.” She looked back at Harry. “Shall we see if they’re still alive?”

They were, or at least Lucius was. He was waiting at the laid table, just driving a hand through his long, thinning hair in an attempt to smooth it. His face wasn’t red, but there was a slight pink tinge to it that Harry found quite amusing. He looked around as he went to sit down. 

“Where’s–”

_ Potter,  _ hissed a familiar tone beneath him,  _ I’d very much appreciate if you don’t sit down on top of me. At least not in the company of my parents.  _

Harry stumbled, the picture this created in his mind was not one he wanted to have in front of Draco’s parents. 

_ What are you waiting for, pick me up!  _ Draco demanded, hissing contentedly when Harry complied.  _ Ah yes, this is better,  _ he grumbled while slithering around Harry’s neck like a lopsided tie.  _ From this place I have a very good view at the hickey I gave you earlier. I wonder if Father has seen it too.  _

_ Shut up, Emily,  _ Harry hissed back, hotly conscious of two human Malfoys staring at him over the first course, Narcissa amused, Lucius as if he were AK-ing Harry in his head. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry said quickly. “Thank you for inviting me today, Lucius. I’m sure you don’t find this easy.”

_ I’m easy, he said,  _ came Draco’s voice from somewhere below Harry’s ear.  _ Slithering right into Harry Potter’s bed and right up his– _

“Emily!!” Harry shouted, scandalized, then realized he’d spoken english.  _ Could you please stop that? _

“Bizarre,” Lucius muttered to Narcissa. “I think the boy is touched in the head. War trauma maybe.”

“He’s talking to Draco, dear,” was the soft reply. “Have you forgotten Harry’s a parselmouth?”

_ And what a talented mouth,  _ Draco said, letting his tongue dance over Harry’s ear.  _ Doing things to me… _

_ This isn’t really sexy, Emily, not as long as you are in this form,  _ Harry hiss-groaned.  _ Now shut up and let me talk to your parents, this is rude! _

“I beg your pardon,” he explained to the Malfoys. “Draco’s being difficult.”

“He always was,” Lucius said stiffly. “And now, as the crowning glory of that he brings you here and tells us you are his b- his b- b-b-b–”

“Boyfriend?” Harry asked innocently, trying to ignore Draco hissing merrily into his ear.  _ Lover. Incredibly skilled lover. Amazingly well-endowed lover.  _

“We are delighted, Harry,” Narcissa said, laying down her spoon. “Draco has done well to choose such a lovely young man. With such great influence,” she took a pointed look at her husband, “coming from a long row of purebloods…”

“His mother was muggleborn, wasn’t she?” Lucius interjected. “That’s… common.”

_ What is uncommon is how good my lover is with his hands,  _ Draco hissed.  _ I would have you know he found my pr– _

_ Please stop, _ Harry hissed desperately.  _ I swear I’m going to tie you into a knot!! _

“And what, exactly, are your intentions with my son?” Lucius asked, raising a blond eyebrow. 

_ Well I do hope his intentions for today include splitting me open with his big, fat– _

“Draco!!” Harry shouted, nearly jumping out of his skin at the thought. They hadn’t gone that far yet, and the mere mention was enough to make Harry’s trousers seem way too tight. Was that to be the reward Draco had mentioned?

“This was a stupid idea,” Lucius mumbled, and Harry couldn’t agree more. 

“My intentions,” Harry said quickly, ignoring Draco’s graphic descriptions, “Well, I do like him a lot and I will try to make him as happy as possible.”

_ Aw,  _ Draco hissed,  _ aren’t you adorable. Look at Mother, she’s already hearing wedding bells.  _

But it was Lucius who said it, to everyone’s surprise. “Are you going to do the honourable thing then, Potter? Are you going to make this… thing… public?”

_ Yes, do you? _ Draco asked, his snake voice tense. 

“Shall I put a notice in the Prophet?” Harry said dryly. “And if you’re asking if I’m going to marry your son I can only tell you that this is none of your business. We’re only together for what, four months? Hold your horses, Lucius.”

_ I want you to know that this it has been four months, three days and six hours since we first kissed _ , Draco hissed.  _ That is quite a long time when you finally are with the right person.  _

_ Are you proposing to me?  _ Harry shook his head. This had to be a joke. 

_ Not yet, you idiot!! But I wouldn’t say it’s off the table in the future.  _ Draco tongued at Harry’s ear again.  _ But surely not before I know how it feels to take your big, fat– _

“I am really, really sorry,” Harry said, jumping to his feet. “It has been so kind of you to invite me today, but I think we’d better repeat this again some other time when Draco isn’t this…”

“Difficult,” Lucius finished Harry’s sentence at the same time as Draco said,  _ Horny _ , into Harry’s ear. 

“We’d love to see you again, Harry, please visit soon,” Narcissa added. “Draco, darling, I’ll see you at our usual appointment.”

_ What appointment?  _ Harry asked, curious, as he walked towards the floo. 

_ Oh you know,  _ Draco said,  _ mani-pedi-cocktails, the newest gossip… champagne, and of course, foie gras. Now let’s get home and see that you get your reward.  _


End file.
